


The Audacity

by whiteout



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Being Silly, Confident Harry, Harry being called Hazza, M/M, Magical!Berlin, Magical!Germany, Smutty, all the snark, mentions of recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteout/pseuds/whiteout
Summary: “Well, I’ll have you known, you’re solely responsible I lost a wonderful executive suite on Kudamm,” Draco drawled and slid his hands over Potter’s perfect arse. He whispered a protective charm and Potter shuddered under him.“Fuck Kudamm, Malfoy, that’s in the West,” Potter breathed heavily and lifted his hips to welcome Draco’s finger inside him. He had bits of Draco’s glitter on his face from where he had gone down on Draco earlier and given him a spectacular blow job.After the war, Potter fucked off to Berlin and developed sex appeal. The audacity.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 132





	The Audacity

**Author's Note:**

> Because I miss the hedonistic spectacle that is Berlin in the summer during rona 2020, here are 3k of pure unadulterated smexy fluff as an ode to my home. Even if it’s simultaneously disgusting and amazing. English translations of dialogue (only short) are in the end notes.
> 
> This is also a little warm up exercise for my next fests after several years of fandom inactivity for me.
> 
> Teii beta'd this for me and they're the best. Thank you so much.<3

Oh, if his father could see him now. His only son and heir, dressed in black shorts, a white tank, Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on top of his head, and white trainers with tennis socks, he’d positively AK himself. Which was exactly the reason why Draco was currently on his own personal little vendetta in the middle of an open-air rave in Kreuzberg. 

Fuck Lucius and his fucking pureblood shite. Four years after the war, Draco had no bone in his body left not disillusioned with wizarding Britain in general and the social circles his family fraternized with specifically. No. No more lunches with Lucius simpering with doddering politicians, afternoon teas with the lovely Lady Greengrass or nightly gatherings with the leftover riff-raff of Voldemort’s cronies, crying into their scotch over the unjust treatment (read: prosecution), by the Ministry. As if something else had whiplashed them into following the megalomanic other than their humongous sense of entitlement. No. This was much better.

This meant various trucks ahead blasting ear-splitting techno music. Ahmed, gorgeous, tousled black locks, glitter on his chest dusted with inky hair, danced next to him. He was the son of a Turkish-German ambassador, whom Draco had met on a Ministry function in London. Ahmed had invited him to Berlin, _because it’s sick in the summer, Draco and you need to bring your pasty British ass over._

Draco took a swig from his beer, lifted his hands and whistled as the crescendoing bass line throbbed in his chest. _Fuck_. Why had he wasted his youth in a stuffy magical boarding school when there was an entire city full of gorgeous, if questionably dressed men gagging for cock right at the doorstep to the continent. He was about to turn to Ahmed to make sure when said gagging would be taking place today when — 

“Malfoy?!”

A hand yanked him back between the writhing bodies. Ahmed was instantly swallowed up by the crowd. Great. There went his delicious shag.

“What the hell?” Ready to give whoever had grabbed him a good dressing down, Draco whirled around.

No way. The stream of half-naked, beer-swigging, slow-dancing people pushed past as he stared into Potter’s brilliant green eyes. Potter, who was grinning cheekily at him. Potter, who had thrown a magnificent ten consecutive Daily Prophet issues strop a year ago and turned reclusive. Potter, who had apparently fucked off to fucking Berlin, lost his glasses and, oh hello, even his shirt. Oh no. Draco swallowed and wet his lip as he took in the broad tanned chest and shoulders. Potter’s delicious muscled legs clad in red running shorts and, oh god, were those abominations on his feet sandals? Draco peeled his eyes off Potter’s glistening sweaty chest and damp hair curling at the nape of his neck.

“Hah! I knew it was you!” Potter said triumphantly. He threw his head to the side to cast away the curls that fell into his face. 

Shit. Keep it together, Malfoy.

“Potter, grabby as ever, I see,” Draco drawled over the noise. “Aren’t you supposed to pop out ginger babies in disgustingly reliable middle-class intervals?”

Ok. He was failing on the not staring at Potter front. A five o’clock shadow, and a yellow hair band to keep his scraggly wet hair out of face. Merlin and Morgana, he was _gorgeous_. 

“Well, you see, no one’s ever told me there’s a city full of men gagging for cock right outside England,” Potter shouted back. He raked his eyes over Draco’s face. Shit. Potter’s eyes narrowed. 

“Malfoy, is that glitter on your face?”

Draco sniffed. “I’ll have you know, I look absolutely dashing in glitter.” 

Potter laughed, eye contact unbroken and raised his beer. 

“Cheers to that.”

Draco felt squeamish under his intense stare while they sipped their beers. He never squirmed, but looking at Potter, his wet red lips encircling the mouth of the bottle, was pushing his luck.

“He! Weiterlaufen!” 

Someone knocked into Draco’s shoulder. He recoiled, ready to unload what Pansy liked to call a mighty prissy fit when Potter grabbed his shoulders. 

“Don’t mind them,” he said, mouth close to Draco’s ear. ,Let’s go, I need another beer.” 

Potter’s breath was warm on his neck and his hands turned Draco around. Goosebumps raced over Draco’s arms. God, Potter had a timbre. Draco turned his head and shouted, “Fine, but first tell me, who drowned you in a river like a pathetic crup, Potter?”

“Hey, it’s hot!” Potter yelled back over the crescendoing whooping as the bass line swelled again, the stream of people pushing them forward. 

“In fact,” Potter’s hands retreated and Draco heard the unscrewing of a bottle cap, “you look like you need a shower yourself, Malfoy” and with that, Potter dumped a bottle of water over him as if he was his mother’s freaking rose bush, the cold water hitting him a shock under the scorching sun. Draco shrieked in a way his mother would have called _thoroughly undignified, Draco._

“Are you actually insane?!” Draco whirled around, this close to shoving Potter into the crowd. Water was running over his eyes, getting into his ears and dripping down his neck. A few catcalls and filthy whistles resounded around him. Potter laughed, his eyes flashing.

“Calm your hissy fit, Malfoy,” Potter guided him forward. Draco was about to give him a piece of his mind when his hands trailed down to Draco’s wet shoulder blades, his thumb stroking the small space between his shoulders. Draco shivered. Oh Circe’s tits. He was in trouble.

* 

They sat to rest on the pavement after extracting themselves out of the dancing crowd, both cradling another beer bought at a kiosk behind them. 

“So, Potter, fucked off to the continent, did you?” Draco said and slapped another sun protection charm on. He was not going to go lobster this weekend. Plus, whatever the sad German equivalent of the Aurors were, they did a spectacular pathetic job of keeping law and order. Which, on second thought, probably didn’t matter, as roughly half the city magical or not was high on something most of the time. Potter nipped his beer and grinned.

“Well, it’s cheap, it’s unpretentious, it’s brilliant. Also, no paps. Call it a recommendation.” There was the eyebrow again. “Besides, looks like you could need a bit of un-fucking yourself.”

Draco spluttered. Preposterous.

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly well provided in this area,” he said coolly. “In fact, you are solely responsible for me not being on the receiving end of a good and long un-fucking today, kidnapping me like this.”

“Kidnapping?” Potter threw his head back and laughed. “You’re mad as a hatter, Malfoy.” 

Potter had never directed this laugh at him before. His laughter was a bright, clear sound that unspooled an old, tightly strung thread in Draco’s chest. Oh, great. What brilliant timing for his old Potter obsession to kick back into full force. _Just perfect._

“Yes, manhandling and kidnapping,” Draco drawled, “I say, serious charges for an ex Auror.” Needing to distract himself from the growing tightness around his crotch, Draco put his chilled beer on his neck. Oh yes, much better.

“And seeing as you have made a spectacle of yourself vanishing like that, was the Weaslette not satisfactory on the gagging part?” He smirked at Potter, leaned his head back and regarded him with lowered lids, knowing just how well this look showed off his long throat and profile.

Potter started hacking. Draco smirked. Score.

“None of your bloody business, but Ginny and I parted amicably,” Potter wheezed, fist hitting his chest repeatedly. He righted himself and ran his hair through his hair, leaving it tousled and glistening in the sun. It really wasn’t fair for him to look this good. Skin evenly tanned and smooth, forearms flexing with muscle, fine dark hairs dusting his arms and lower legs.

“Besides,” Potter continued and fixed Draco with the unnerving stare he knew all too well from their Hogwarts days, “I think I know someone who has been gagging for it.”

Draco gulped. Now, that wasn’t fair. When had Potter become so _dirty_. Draco was about to retort when Potter sneaked a hand along Draco’s scalp and through his hair. It felt wonderful, until Potter gripped the hair at the back of his head. Draco couldn’t help it, he whimpered.

“Or am I wrong, Malfoy?” Potter murmured, close now. 

“Well,” Draco bristled and struggled against Potter’s grip, which only made his already interested cock more acquiescent. Instead of answering, Potter slid his hand over Draco’s neck and pulled him close.

“Well, what?” Potter muttered, mouth hovering inches away from his. The bastard.

“Well, I say get on with it, or are you waiting for an invi—”

Potter kissed him. Hard. He smelled wonderful, salty with sweat and musk. His naked chest pressed against Draco. Draco slid his arms around Potter’s neck and pulled him closer. Potter’s mouth was brilliant, soft, hot, wet and, oh yes, greedy. He nibbled on Draco’s lower lip before he tugged it with his teeth. Draco grabbed his shoulders. Potter’s finger slipped under his shirt. Draco groaned, which Potter took as an invitation to lazily slide his tongue into his mouth. Not that he was complaining. Potter and tongues were an incredibly good idea. Oh, and that hand ghosting down his stomach as well.

“Alter, sucht euch ein Zimmer!” someone shouted. Draco relished in the fact Ahmed had only had taught him bedroom German. Potter hummed lazily into his mouth. The bass was still rumbling in the distance. Draco made a vow to never leave Berlin again. Potter broke the kiss. The audacity.

“Berlin to your liking, Malfoy?” Potter unhanded him (much to Draco’s chagrin), put his chin on his hand that was resting on his knee and eyed him with poorly hidden amusement.

“It’s tolerable,” he sniffed as an empty beer bottle rolled by, leaking booze all over the place. The streets . _were._ disgusting. Potter regarded him with an unreadable look as he wiped the sweat on his forehead away with his forearm.

“Let’s get out of here, I’m melting.” Potter said and stood.

Draco licked his lips. “And where do you propose we go to? I was robbed of my hotel room by a very grabby, manhandling ex Auror.” Potter grinned again, carefree and relaxed and Draco was starting to fear for his life at the sight of him.

“My place is close. Just let me get my bike.”

*

Potter had a bike. Potter had a pathetic excuse of a bike, turquoise paint peeling off, with a white saddle and a fancy frame. He also had a gazillion friends who called him _Hazza_ and they all sat in a park close to Potter’s house (which he apparently shared with about half of them, like a giant sex commune). They were drinking, smoking weed, playing badminton and kept Potter from taking Draco home. It was all quite outrageous.

“Who’s your friend?” A darkly tanned guy with a Spanish accent, long curly brown hair, an enormous beard, in shorts and _only_ suspenders, eyed Draco. 

“Oh, yeah,” Potter rubbed his nose with his thumb, as he steadied his bike and grinned. „This is Draco, he’s someone I know from back home.” Potter made it sound as if their shared history could be encapsulated in “I know him from back home”. Draco snorted.

“Ooh, someone from Harry’s dark and mysterious past,” a guy with sandy hair and tattoos all over his arms and legs quipped. Someone groaned, “Please, don’t start guys.”

Potter looked mulish all of a sudden. Yeah, that was more like the Potter he knew from school: angst and broodiness engulfing him like a maelstrom. It messed with Draco’s head quite a bit. Broody Potter had always been sexy, he’d come to know that the first time in fourth year during the first task with the bloody dragons. Potter’s tournament uniform and scowling face had haunted him for a while. Which meant, they had been the most efficient wank material.

“Shut up, Luki,” a girl, hair dyed steel-grey, with the shortest bangs Draco had ever seen and a lot of piercings on her face punched the guy’s shoulder.

“Nice meeting you, Draco,” she smiled, shaking his hand while holding a joint between two tattooed fingers.

“May I?” Draco said and felt Potter’s gaze heavy on him as he took a deep drag. Draco locked gazes with him as he exhaled the smoke into his direction.

“Haz, stop eyefucking the poor guy, for god’s sake.” The girl teased Potter. Draco felt like he had met his new spirit animal. Oh, Pansy would be livid. 

“He’s horribly unsubtle, isn’t he?” He drawled as he handed her back her weed.

“Tanja, stop it,” Potter told her, ruffling through his hair and messing it up even more. “Malfoy, let’s go before you bond with my friends and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You keep him, Hazza, I like him!” The girl named Tanja called after them. Draco winked at her.

“See you soon, my darling, when _Hazza’s_ done manhandling me.” He waggled his eyebrows. She laughed and the others waved, except for tattoo guy, who stared hard at Draco. Potter rolled his eyes at him and grinned, pushing his bike over the steps leading out of the park.

“Don’t mind her, she’s always messing around,” Potter said, as they passed a kebab joint, people talking and eating outside on wooden beer tables, and took a turn into a quiet alley lined with lime trees. The tips of Potter's ears were noticeably red.

“I am deeply in love with her already and will absolutely insist on moving in with her while we plot your destruction,” Draco drawled and smirked. Potter shook his head, chuckling, and Draco would have had him up right there against the house wall if the promise of an undisturbed location was not tempting him to fulfill his entire collection of Potter wank fantasies from number one to three hundred and fifty-seven.

“You’re impossible,” Potter said, and it came quite close to edition number thirty-four. 

*

“Now humour me this,” Draco drawled as they laid on Potter’s mattress on the floor, breathless, the sun warming their naked sweaty skin, “what are the chances you and my dashing self end up at the same rave, on the same day, at the same time in this menace of a town?” Harry, who had been idly combing his finger through Draco’s hair, stilled.

“Ehr, it’s a small world?” Potter offered. 

“Good one, Potty, try again”

“Ehr-” Potter cleared his throat. 

When Draco rolled onto his stomach, he looked sheepish.

“Spit it out, or you will be sorry,” Draco said, and grabbed Potter’s cock for good measure.

“Malfoy!” Potter yelped, “you utter lunatic.”

“Today Potter? I’m waiting.” He palmed him softly. Potter breathed hard through his nose.

“Well, I might have had a trace on you during my Auror days and…”  
Draco stared at him. It took him a few seconds before he got over his outrage. 

“Yes, and?” He drawled coldly, almost slipping into a sneer, seething inside. Unrivalled Star of his Wank Fantasies or not, he was this close to hexing the bastard.

„Ehr, it, well,” Potter licked his lips. “It might’ve gone off when you came to Berlin?”

“And why on earth would that charm still be on me?” Draco said coolly and raised an eyebrow.

Potter looked thoroughly embarrassed now, though his cock was very much enjoying Draco’s fondling.

“Ehr, yes, because, I may have … forgot to take… it… off…?”

Draco bristled, fingers itching to pinch the idiot right into the soft skin of his balls.

“And why would someone who is not in the Aurors anymore forget to take off a trace on a good-standing,” here Potter snorted, “member of society?” Draco pressed, annoyance already futile at the sight of Harry submitting so beautifully under him.

Potter rubbed his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Well, ehr, because, it was, convenient if you, if me, if we ever —” and for that, Potter got a slow squeeze of the shaft of his cock.

“Yes?”

“Well, let’s shelve that for later,” Potter evaded, the devil, and rocked his cock against Draco’s palm impatiently. 

“Besides, even without the trace, honestly, it’s not like it’s hard to recognize you,” Potter added defiantly. Draco raised his eyebrows.

“I mean,” Potter said, “who else has your poncey voice and blond hair? Seriously, if you don’t want to be found, you should have just glamoured yourself, Malfoy.”

Potter licked his lips, his eyes lidded. Draco pushed him back into the mattress and hovered over him, still kneading him. Potter moaned softly and closed his eyes.

“Well, Potter, I must say, I am shocked,” Draco drawled. “That’s what most people would call downright stalking.” Potter’s lips quirked into a smile and oh, Draco wanted to devour him, it was an urge so intense it almost hurt. Instead he exhaled through his nose and continued, “Now next to manhandling and kidnapping, this brings your charges up to three. Serious felonies, Boy Wonder. No wonder the Aurors fired you.”

Potter looked at him now, his eyes, _oh god, his eyes_ , sparkled mischievously and he rolled his hips against Draco’s. 

“What’re gonna do, Malfoy, have me arrested?“

“No,“ Draco sniffed, “but this makes for some excellent blackmail material while I’m staying here.” 

“Oh, you’re staying here now, not moving in with your new bestie Tanja?” Potter said, voice pulled low by several chords from Draco’s continued administrations.

“Well, I’ll have you known, you’re solely responsible I lost a wonderful executive suite on Kudamm,” Draco drawled and slid his hands over Potter’s perfect arse. He whispered a protective charm and Potter shuddered under him.

“Fuck Kudamm, Malfoy, that’s in the West,” Potter breathed heavily and lifted his hips to welcome Draco’s finger inside him. He had bits of Draco’s glitter on his face from where he had gone down on Draco earlier and given him a spectacular blow job. Fuck, he was hot.

“Then you better take some responsibility for my next dwelling, Potter,” Draco drawled and started to slowly fuck Potter on his fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Malfoy, just… _god_ , come on, fuck!” Potter urged, groaning as his legs fell open. Draco stared down at him from where he was propped up on one hand above Potter. He would never leave Berlin again, he decided right there and then. It would serve his father right when he had to explain high society where Draco had fucked off to. He’d make sure to tell Lucius all about the gagging.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Potter?” He drawled lazily.

Potter growled. “Come on, please, don’t be a fucking wanker now, Malfoy...”

Draco withdrew his fingers and Potter’s nostrils flared.

“Manners, Potty,” Draco smirked as he slowly tugged on his own cock.

Potter put his arm over his eyes and growled.

“Really, Malfoy, really, you’re going to make me beg?” He said, looking utterly debauched.

“You can call me daddy, if you want,” Draco preened and got a kick in his sides for that.

Here was wank fantasy number three hundred and fifty-eight added to his collection.

Oh, he was never going to leave Berlin again.

**Author's Note:**

> German translation:  
> Weiterlaufen: Keep walking!  
> Alter, sucht euch ein Zimmer: For god’s sake, get a room
> 
> The Berlin Kudamm is an upscale street in what used to be insular West Berlin before the fall of the wall. But if you're cool or would like to be (like me), you prefer stay in the more Eastern Berlin boroughs like Kreuzberg mentioned here.


End file.
